The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction. Volume 13, No. 356, February 14, 1829

Previous to his executing that most magnificent yet most touching piece of sculpture, which alone would have sufficed to immortalize his name, Chantrey was, at his own request, locked up alone in the church for two hours. This fact may be apocryphal; but the following I do affirm most confidently. When I hinted to the venerable matron who shows the monument, and who, being a retainer of the Boothby family, feels their honour identified with her own, that Chantrey's was by far the finer effort of the two, and that I wished I had that yet to see; and my companion added, that though the design of the Boothby monument was good, the execution was coarse and clumsy in the extreme, compared with the elaborate finish of the Robinson's. "Humph," said the old lady, with a most vinegar expression of countenance, with a degree of angry hauteur, an air of insulted dignity that Yates would have travelled fifty miles to witness; "the like of that's what I now hear every day. Hang that fellow Chantee, or Cantee, or what you call him; I wish he had never been born!" The Ashbourne people are naturally proud of the monument. With them it is a kind of idol, to which every stranger is required to do homage. Among others, when Prince Leopold passed through Ashbourne, and inquiries were made by some of his royal highness's suite as to the "lions" of the neighbourhood—"We have one of our own, Sir," was the ready reply; "a noble piece of sculpture in the church." To the church the royal mourner was on the very point of repairing, when Sir Robert Gardiner suddenly inquired the description to which the sculpture in question belonged. "It is a monument, Sir, no one passes through without seeing it; for its like is not to be met with in England—it is a monument to an only child, whose mother died—" "Not now," said the prince faintly; "not now. I too have lost—" and he turned away from the carriage in tears.

MR. CANNING

It may be observed, too, by the way, that to Ashbourne the late Mr. Canning was remarkably partial. Near it lived a female relative to whom he was warmly attached, and under whose roof many of his happiest hours were spent. It is stated, that a little poem, entitled, "A Spring Morning in Dovedale," one of the earliest efforts of his muse, is still in existence; and I have good reasons for knowing, that but a very few weeks previous to his death, he stated, in conversation, what delight he should feel in "going into that neighbourhood, and revisiting haunts which to him had been scenes of almost unalloyed enjoyment." I could scarcely believe, so exquisitely tranquil is the scene, the very murmur of the stream which flows around seems to soften itself in unison with the stillness of the landscape—that Ashbourne had ever been other than the abode of rural peace and comfort; and yet I was assured that during the war there was scarcely any limit to the bustle and gaiety which pervaded it.

MR. MOORE, THE POET

At Mayfield, near Ashbourne, is a cottage where Moore, it is stated, composed Lalla Rookh. "For some years this distinguished poet lived at the neighbouring village of Mayfield; and there was no end to the pleasantries and anecdotes that were floating about its coteries respecting him; no limit to the recollections which existed of the peculiarities of the poet, of the wit and drollery of the man. Go where you would, his literary relics were pointed out to you. One family possessed pens; and oh! Mr. Bramah! such pens! they would have borne a comparison with Miss Mitford's; and those who are acquainted with that lady's literary implements and accessaries will admit this is no common-place praise—pens that wrote "Paradise and the Peri" in Lalia Rookh! Another showed you a glove torn up into thin shreds in the most even and regular manner possible; each shred being in breadth about the eighth of an inch, and the work of the teeth! Pairs were demolished in this way during the progress of the Life of Sheridan. A third called your attention to a note written in a strain of the most playful banter, and announcing the next "tragi-comedy meeting." A fourth repeated a merry impromptu; and a fifth played a very pathetic air, composed and adapted for some beautiful lines of Mrs. Opie's. But to return to Mayfield. Our desire to go over the cottage which he had inhabited was irresistible. It is neat, but very small, and remarkable for nothing except combining a most sheltered situation with the most extensive prospect. Still one had pleasure in going over it, and peeping into the little book-room, ycleped the "Poet's Den," from which so much true poetry had issued to delight and amuse mankind. But our satisfaction was not without its portion of alloy. As we approached the cottage, a figure scarcely human appeared at one of the windows. Unaware that it was again inhabited, we hesitated about entering; when a livid, half-starved visage presented itself through the lattice, and a thin, shrill voice discordantly ejaculated,—"Come in, gentlemen, come in. Don't be afeard! I'm only a tailor at work on the premises." This villanous salutation damped sadly the illusion of the scene; and it was some time before we rallied sufficiently from this horrible desecration to descend to the poet's walk in the shrubbery, where, pacing up and down the live-long morning, he composed his Lalla Rookh. It is a little confined gravel-walk, in length about twenty paces; so narrow, that there is barely room on it for two persons to walk abreast: bounded on one side by a straggling row of stinted laurels, on the other by some old decayed wooden paling; at the end of it was a huge haystack. Here, without prospect, space, fields, flowers, or natural beauties of any description, was that most imaginative poem conceived, planned, and executed. It was at Mayfield, too, that those bitter stanzas were written on the death of Sheridan. There is a curious circumstance connected with them; they were sent to Perry, the well-known editor of the Morning Chronicle. Perry, though no stickler in a general way, was staggered at the venom of two stanzas, to which I need not more particularly allude, and wrote to inquire whether he might be permitted to omit them. The reply which he received was shortly this: "You may insert the lines in the Chronicle or not, as you please; I am perfectly indifferent about it; but if you do insert them, it must be verbatim." Mr. Moore's fame would not have suffered by their suppression; his heart would have been a gainer. Some of his happiest efforts are connected with the localities of Ashbourne. The beautiful lines beginning

"Those evening bells, those evening bells,"

were suggested, it is said, by hearing the Ashboume peal; and sweetly indeed do they sound at that distance, "both mournfully and slow;" while those exquisitely touching stanzas,

"Weep not for those whom the veil of the tombIn life's happy morning hath hid from our eyes,"

were avowedly written on the sister of an Ashbourne gentleman, Mr. P– B–. But to his drolleries. He avowed on all occasions an utter horror of ugly women. He was heard, one evening, to observe to a lady, whose person was pre-eminently plain, but who, nevertheless, had been anxiously doing her little endeavours to attract his attention, "I cannot endure an ugly woman. I'm sure I could never live with one. A man that marries an ugly woman cannot be happy." The lady observed, that "such an observation she could not permit to pass without remark. She knew many plain couples who lived most happily."—"Don't talk of it," said the wit; "don't talk of it. It cannot be."—"But I tell you," said the lady, who became all at once both piqued and positive, "it can be, and it is. I will name individuals so circumstanced. You have heard of Colonel and Mrs. –. She speaks in a deep, gruff bass voice; he in a thin, shrill treble. She looks like a Jean Dorée; he like a dried alligator. They are called Bubble and Squeak by some of their neighbours; Venus and Adonis by others. But what of that? They are not handsome, to be sure; and there is neither mirror nor pier-glass to be found, search their house from one end of it to the other. But what of that? No unhandsome reflections can, in such a case, be cast by either party! I know them well; and a more harmonious couple I never met with. Now, Mr. Moore, in reply, what have you to say? I flatter myself I have overthrown your theory completely." "Not a whit. Colonel—has got into a scrape, and, like a soldier, puts the best face he can upon it." Those still exist who were witnesses to his exultation when one morning he entered Mrs–'s drawing-room, with an open letter in his hand, and, in his peculiarly joyous and animated manner, exclaimed, "Don't be surprised if I play all sorts of antics! I am like a child with a new rattle! Here is a letter from my friend Lord Byron, telling me he has dedicated to me his poem of the 'Corsair.' Ah, Mrs.–, it is nothing new for a poor poet to dedicate his poem to a great lord; but it is something passing strange for a great lord to dedicate his book to a poor poet." Those who know him most intimately feel no sort of hesitation in declaring, that he has again and again been heard to express regret at the earlier efforts of his muse; or reluctance in stating, at the same time, as a fact, that Mr. M., on two different occasions, endeavoured to repurchase the copyright of certain poems; but, in each instance, the sum demanded was so exorbitant, as of itself to put an end to the negotiation. The attempt, however, does him honour. And, affectionate father as he is well known to be, when he looks at his beautiful little daughter, and those fears, and hopes, and cares, and anxieties, come over him which almost choke a parent's utterance as he gazes on a promising and idolized child, he will own the censures passed on those poems to be just: nay more—every year will find him more and more sensible of the paramount importance of the union of female purity with female loveliness—more alive to the imperative duty, on a father's part, to guard the maiden bosom from the slightest taint of licentiousness. It is a fact not generally suspected, though his last work, "The Epicurean," affords strong internal evidence of the truth of the observation, that few are more thoroughly conversant with Scripture than himself. Many of Alethe's most beautiful remarks are simple paraphrases of the sacred volume. He has been heard to quote from it with the happiest effect—to say there was no book like it—no book, regarding it as a mere human composition, which could on any subject even "approach it in poetry, beauty, pathos, and sublimity." Long may these sentiments abide in him! And as no man, to use his own words, "ever had fiercer enemies or firmer friends"—as no man, to use those of others, was ever more bitter and sarcastic as a political enemy, more affectionate and devoted as a private friend, the more deeply his future writings are impregnated with the spirit of that volume, the more heartfelt, let him be well assured, will be his gratification in that hour when "we shall think of those we love, only to regret that we have not loved more dearly, when we shall remember our enemies only to forgive them."

RETROSPECTIVE GLEANINGS

REGAL TABLET

(For the Mirror.)

The following Synopsis of English Sovereigns, and their contemporaries, will, it is hoped, be acceptable to the readers of history.

JACOBUS(Normans.)WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR

began his reign, 14th Oct. 1066, died 9th Sept. 1087.

Contemporaries

Popes.

Alexander II., 1061.

Gregory VII., 1073.

Victor III., 1086.

Emperors of the East.

Constantine XII., 1059.

Romanus IV., 1068.

Michael VII., 1071.

Nicephorus I., 1078.

Alexis I., 1081.

Emperor of the West.

Henry IV., 1056.

France.

Philip I., 1060.

Scotland.

Malcolm III., 1059.

Donald VIII., 1068.

WILLIAM RUFUS

began his reign 9th Sept. 1087, died 2nd Aug. 1100.

Popes.

Victor III., 1086.

Urban II., 1088.

Pascal II., 1099.

Emperor of the East.

Alexis I., 1081.

Emperor of the West.

Henry IV., 1056.

France.

Philip I., 1060.

Scotland.

Donald VIII., 1068.

HENRY I

began his reign 2nd August 1100, ended 1st Dec. 1135.

Popes.

Pascal II., 1099.

Gelassus II., 1118.

Calistus II., 1119.

Honorius II., 1124.

Innocent II., 1130.

Celestin II., 1134.

Emperors of the East.

Alexis I., 1081.

John Cominus, 1118.

Emperors of the West.

Henry IV., 1056.

Henry V., 1106.

Lotharius II., 1125.

France.

Philip I., 1060.

Louis VI., 1108.

Scotland.

Donald VIII., 1068.

Edgar, 1108.

David, 1134.

STEPHEN

began his reign 1st Dec. 1135, ended 25th Oct. 1154.

Popes.

Celestin II., 1134.

Lucius II., 1144.

Eugenius III. 1145.

Anastasius IV., 1153.

Adrian V., 1154.

Emperors of the East.

John Cominus, 1118.

Emanuel Cominus, 1143.

Emperors of the West.

Lotharius II. 1125.

Conrad III., 1138.

Frederic I., 1152.

France.

Louis VI., 1108.

Louis VII., 1137.

Scotland.

David, 1134.

Saxon Line RestoredHENRY II

began his reign 25th Oct. 1154, ended 6th July, 1189.

Popes.

Adrian IV., 1154.

Alexander II., 1154.

Lucius III., 1181.

Urban III., 1185.

Gregory VIII., 1187.

Clement III., 1188.

Emperors of the East.

Emanuel Cominus, 1143.

Alexis II., 1180.

Andronicus I., 1183.

Isaac II., 1185.

Emperor of the West.

Frederic I., 1152.

France.

Louis VII., 1137.

Philip II., 1180.

Scotland.

David, 1134.

Malcolm IV., 1163.

William, 1165.

RICHARD I

began his reign 6th July, 1189, ended 6th April, 1199.

Popes.

Clement III., 1188.

Celestin III., 1191.

Innocent III., 1198.

Emperors of the East.

Isaac II., 1185.

Alexis III., 1195.

Emperors of the West.

Frederic I., 1152.

Henry VI., 1196.

Philip I., 1197.

France.

Philip II., 1180.

Scotland.

William., 1165.

JOHN

began his reign 6th April, 1199, ended 19th Oct. 1216.

Popes.

Innocent III., 1198.

Honorius III., 1215.

Emperors of the East.

Alexis III., 1195.

Alexis IV., 1203.

Alexis V., 1204.

Theodoras I., 1204.

Emperors of the West.

Philip I., 1197.

Otho IV., 1208.

Frederic II., 1212.

French Emperors of Constantinople.

Baldwin I., 1204.

Henry I., 1206.

France.

Philip II., 1180.

Scotland.

William, 1165.

Alexander II., 1214.

HENRY III

began his reign 19th Oct. 1216, ended 16th Nov. 1272.

Popes.

Honorius III., 1215.

Gregory IX., 1227.

Celestin IV., 1241.

Innocent IV., 1243.

Alexander IV., 1254.

Urban IV., 1261.

Clement IV., 1265.

Gregory X., 1271.

Emperors of the East.

Theodore I., 1204.

John III., 1222.

Theodore II., 1225.

John IV., 1259.

Michael VIII., 1259.

Emperor of the West.

Frederic II., 1212.

French Emperors of Constantinople.

Henry I., 1206.

Peter II., 1217.

Robert de Cour., 1221.

Baldwin II., 1237.

France.

Philip II., 1180.

Louis VIII., 1223.

Louis IX., 1226.

Philip III., 1270.

Scotland.

Alexander II., 1214.

Alexander III., 1249.

EDWARD I

began his reign 16th Nov. 1272, ended 7th July, 1307.

Popes.

Gregory X., 1270.

Innocent V., 1276.

Adrian V., 1276.

John XXI., 1276.

Nicholas III., 1277.

Martin IV., 1281.

Honorius IV., 1285.

Nicholas IV., 1288.

Celestin V., 1294.

Boniface VIII., 1294.

Benedict X., 1303.

Clement V., 1305.

Emperors of the East.

Michael VIII., 1259.

Andronicus II., 1283.

Emperors of the West.

Frederic II., 1212.

Rodolphus I., 1273.

Adolphus, 1291.

Albert I., 1298.

France.

Philip III., 1270.

Philip IV., 1285.

Scotland.

Alexander III., 1249.

John Baliol, 1293.

Robert Bruce, 1306.

(To be continued.)

THE GATHERER

A snapper up of unconsidered trifles.SHAKSPEARE.

TIMELY REPARTEE

A soldier of Marshal Saxe's army being discovered in a theft, was condemned to be hanged. What he had stolen might be worth about 5s. The marshal meeting him as he was being led to execution, said to him, "What a miserable fool you were to risk your life for 5s.!"—"General," replied the soldier, "I have risked it every day for five-pence." This repartee saved his life.

MARSHAL VILLARS

It was customary, as the French general in command of the Italian army passed through Lyons to join his army, for that town to offer him a purse full of gold. Marshal Villars on being thus complimented by the head magistrate, the latter concluded his speech by observing, that Turenne, who was the last commander of the Italian army who had honoured the town with his presence, had taken the purse, but returned the money. "Ah!" replied Villars, pocketing both the purse and the gold, "I have always looked upon Turenne to be inimitable."

LONG STORIES

Capt. S–, of the – regiment, during the American war, was notorious for a propensity, not to story-telling, but to telling long stories, which he used to indulge in defiance of time and place, often to the great annoyance of his immediate companions; but he was so good-humoured withal, that they were loth to check him abruptly or harshly. An opportunity occurred of giving him a hint, which had the desired effect. He was a member of a courtmartial assembled for the trial of a private of the regiment. The man bore a very good character in general, the offence he had committed was slight, and the court was rather at a loss what punishment to award, for it was requisite to award some, as the man had been found guilty. While they were deliberating on this, Major –, now General Sir –, suddenly turning to the president, said, in his dry manner, "Suppose we sentence him to hear two of Captain S–'s long stories."

GENUINE GAELIC PROCLAMATION

The crier sounds a flourish on that delightful sonorous instrument, the bagpipe, then loquitor, "Tak tent a' ye land louping hallions, the meickle deil tamn ye, tat are within the bounds. If any o' ye be foond fishing in ma Lort Preadalpine's gruns, he'll be first headit, and syne hangit, and syne droom't; an' if ta loon's bauld enough to come bock again, his horse and cart will be ta'en frae him; and if ta teils' sae grit wi' him tat he shows his ill faurd face ta three times, far waur things wull be dune till him. An noo tat ye a' ken ta wull o' ta lairt, I'll e'en gang hame and sup my brose."

TO LOUISA

L et me but hopeO lovely maid,U ever will be mine,I 'll bless my fate,S upremely great,A happy Valentine.N.R.H.

A DEAD SUBJECT

"Dyed stockings are always rotten," said a Nottingham warehouseman.—"Yes," replied a by-stander, "and you'll be rotten when you're dead."

GRIZZLE

What will some grave people say to this?—from a "Constant Reader." A little boy having swallowed a medal of Napoleon, ran in great tribulation to his mother, and told her "that he had swallowed Boneparty."

1

This elegant and curious piece of workmanship, the history of which is involved in uncertainty, bears the marks of an age subsequent to that of the choir, and was probably erected in the reign of Henry VI. It is in the most finished style of the florid Gothic, containing niches, canopies, pediments, and pinnacles, and decorated with the statues of all the sovereigns of England, from the Norman Conquest to Henry V. The statue of James I. stands in the niche which tradition assigns as that formerly occupied by the one of Henry VI.

2

These stalls or seats which were formed of oak, and of the most elaborate workmanship, occupied the side, and western end of the choir: they were surmounted by canopies, supported by slender pillars, rising from the arms, each being furnished with a movable misericordia.

3

Vide Drake's Eboracum, p. 527.

4

We thank our intelligent antiquarian correspondent for this article, which, he will perceive appears somewhat, abridged, as we are unable to spare room for further details.

5

We ourselves remember the thrilling effect of our first reading this ballad; especially while clambering over the ruins of Brambletye House. Indeed, the incident of the ballad is of the most sinking character, and it works on the stage with truly melo-dramatic force, Perhaps, there is not a more interesting picture than a solitary tree, tufted on a time-worn ruin; there are a thousand associations in such a scene, which, to the reflective mind, are dear as life's-blood, and as an artist would say, they make a fine study.